Unbound
by theminimogut
Summary: The newest whelp has disappeared, and the Companions are sent out to find her. One-Shot, No Pairings, Written in Third-Person, from Vilkas' perspective. Once again, written in preparation for my (not so new) Skyrim game! Please ignore my hideous summary and titling skills!


"Blast that woman," Vilkas shouted; in the case of his other Shield-Siblings, he tried to keep his temper in check, but Lathala was another case entirely.

"Peace, brother," Farkas warned.

"Yes," Kodlak agreed. "I'm sure she has her reasons."

Vilkas snorted; roughly a month ago, Llathala had asked permission from Kodlak to head to Riften. She said that a family member was meeting her there, and that she would return in two weeks' time. Kodlak had understood the nature of her request, or, at least, understood the lie she had told, and allowed her to go unimpeded, unquestioned and unaccompanied.

"Maybe. Or she's dead," Aela said bluntly.

Kodlak sighed wearily. "Or she's dead," he confirmed, the lines on his face only getting deeper.

'Good riddance,' Vilkas thought to himself. No, he didn't like the elf one bit; not her battle tactics, not her reliance on magic, not her sneaking tendencies, and especially not her quiet-yet-scathing sarcasm. She was little more than a cripple if she didn't swill some sort of stamina potion or alcoholic drink each day anyways.

"Or she skipped out," Skjor said suspiciously, arms folded across his chest.

"Either way, she is a Shield-Sibling now," Kodlak said. "It is our duty to find her."

"What?" Vilkas spluttered. "If she really did skip out, as Skjor said, what are we going to do? Drag her back here?"

"Not likely," Farkas snorted; they'd all heard his story of how a Silver Hand member had grabbed her by the hair in an attempt to kill her. Apparently, she'd ripped a chunk of her own hair out trying to get away, and then gutted the man.

"Well," Aela said smoothly. "I think that's exactly what we'd have to do. She's shirking her duties, and must be put on some kind of trial."

"Yes, she must," Skjor agreed darkly. Kodlak nodded, seemingly disappointed.

And so it came to be that all of the current companions - save Llathala, of course - were gathered and sent out all over Skyrim in groups of two, with the goal of searching two holds each. Except for the wolf twins. No, they had the pleasure of searching three holds. Kodlak admitted that decision was mostly based on the fact the two of them could probably drag the errant Dark Elf back without too many injuries.

Vilkas couldn't understand why Kodlak was so intent on the Dark Elf being brought back unharmed… or brought back at all. Nothing he could have seen in her would be this important… right? Vilkas shook his head, returning to the present, silver eyes scanning the road ahead. He had no idea how they were supposed to find her, though he supposed that the holds he and Farkas had been assigned weren't that bad. At least they didn't have the densely forested Falkreath to comb over.

Farkas stiffened suddenly.

"What is it?" Vilkas whispered, glancing around, hand flying to the hilt of his great-sword.

"I'm not sure," Farkas said slowly, sniffing at the air. "It sounded like… something moving?"

They were in the Rift, and had been making their way down the mountainside past Shor's Stone. It was the dead of night, and it seemed a storm was brewing, as a mist crept in and thunder rolled in the distance.

"WULD," came a voice from above, and figure sailed over the edge of the mountain, landing lightly in front of them. At this point, the wolf twins had their swords out, and were more than ready to start slashing.

The figure turned, sword already drawn and then flinched violently. Vilkas almost started cursing, and his twin rushed forward, all thoughts of fighting gone. Vilkas was less enthusiastic, as the figure before them was none other than Llathala herself; he noticed she stiffened oddly as Farkas greeted her, face contorting almost painfully.

"I'm sorry, Farkas," he saw her mouth, and then she barked: "FUS!"

Farkas stumbled back long enough for her to dart past him, closer to the cliff side… and to Vilkas. He barely caught her wrist as she barreled past, so shocked was he by the fact that she'd just _shouted_.

"What's going on?" he bellowed at her over the now-heavy rain.

"Let me go, Vilkas," she yelled back. "This does not concern you."

"You ran away from the hall, _shouted_ at Farkas and now expect me to believe this doesn't concern me?" This was the most he'd ever spoken to her at one time.

"Let me go," she repeated; a lighting strike illuminated her features. She looked guilty. "Do not make me shout at you."

"No, you're coming back with us to Jorrvaskr," Vilkas replied stubbornly. "There, you _will_ explain what is going on to Kodlak and the rest of the Circle!"

"I will not. I'm sorry Vilkas, but this does not concern you. For your own sake, for the sake of the Companions, for the sake of _Skyrim,_ do not follow me!" Her voice rang with desperati- wait… she said follow, not stop…

"Feim," she whispered sadly. Vilkas watched in awe as she faded to little more than a ghost, stepped out of his grip and dropped off the cliff, fading from sight as the mists claimed her.


End file.
